


we got the beat

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M, tyson being very... Tyson™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 06:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20719271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: Tyson’s sort of surprised when Freddie kisses him, because—if he’s being honest—he’d been half convinced that Freddie hated him.(In which Freddie is very Big, and Tyson talks way too much.)





	we got the beat

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU FOUND THIS THROUGH GOOGLING, KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS STORY PERSONALLY, OR ARE MENTIONED YOURSELF: please, please click away. This is a work of fiction and nothing written in this story is true. Any accurate information used in this story is publicly available information about public figures, the rest is made up, 100%.
> 
> this is nonsense that I wrote all in one sitting in my journal, then typed up and posted here. truly absurd, but i had fun writing it so now y'all get to read it. no beta on this one, so all mistakes are my own. have fun, yo

Tyson’s sort of surprised when Freddie kisses him, because—if he’s being honest—he’d been half convinced that Freddie hated him. 

Not, like, a particularly mean kind of hatred, or anything. It’s just that Tyson’s kind of a lot, and Freddie’s kind of a quiet guy, and sometimes, that’s how it goes. In Tyson’s head, it’s not even so much a ‘hatred’ as it is a mismatch of vibes that results in a lot of sexy glaring, really. 

Apparently, though, it’s a mismatch of vibes that results in kissing. This means Tyson’s been reading this whole situation wrong, which is sort of a blow to his ego. 

The kissing provides some solace. 

Freddie is… well, he’s tall, for one. He’s also got this stupidly sexy hair that’s really fun to touch, and a stupidly sexy grin that Tyson’s only been able to catch glimpses of so far. He’s got big arms and a broad chest and eyes that looks kind of beautiful and weirdly sad, and he’s also really, really tall. 

All of these things coalesce into a very nice, very large final package, in Tyson’s opinion. 

The first thing Tyson says after being kissed by Freddie is, “What?” 

Freddie shrugs in response. It’s ridiculously good looking, as far as shrugs go. “I dunno,” he says. “I thought it might be… fun? For both of us?” 

“Uh,” is all Tyson manages. 

Freddie starts to look a little hesitant. “Was I… wrong?” 

“No,” Tyson says, shaking his head so quickly that he’s pretty sure his neck’s not gonna be happy about it tomorrow. “Very right. We’re just… in public.” Because Tyson is still operating under the assumption that Freddie lowkey hates him, and usually, when you’re kissing someone you hate, you don’t want other people to see, Tyson’s pretty sure. 

“That’s true,” Freddie says, and then he gives Tyson a look—like, a  _ look,  _ up and down his whole body—that makes Tyson feel a whole inch and a half shorter. “Did you… want to go somewhere more private?” 

Tyson nods, very vigorously, and it probably doesn’t help his sore neck situation, but it does help the rest of him, so he figures it’s a fair trade-off. 

The elevator ride to the hotel room is very quiet. 

This is less than ideal for Tyson, who, as a rule, tries to avoid being alone with his thoughts. His brain will always go to really weird places, and then he’ll end up saying some really weird shit, and the whole thing just… doesn’t end well for anyone, except for maybe some demon somewhere that feeds off of Tyson’s humiliation. 

Currently, he’s thinking about Freddie, who is, among other things, very, very tall. 

This leads him to note that Freddie also has large hands and large feet. 

The next logical conclusion is— well. 

“So,” Tyson says, “uh, proportionally, vertically speaking— does the carpet match the drapes?” 

Slowly, Freddie turns toward him, giving him a look that Tyson can only describe as extremely erotic mild disapproval. 

“Okay, sorry, that phrasing was weird,” Tyson says. “I’m not asking about the color of your pubic hair, I’m asking about the size of your penis.” 

Neither the disapproval nor the eroticism fades from Freddie’s expression. 

“I’m guessing that didn’t make the question sound any less weird,” Tyson says, and before he has a chance to let this spiral further, they arrive at their floor. 

Freddie looks away from Tyson, and makes his way out of the elevator. “You’ll find out soon enough, I guess.” 

And Tyson really wishes he could respond to that with, like, a milligram of composure, maybe, but all he manages to do is makes a small squeaking noise and trail after Freddie. 

He’s pretty sure Freddie’s grinning a little bit, which is very rude, but Tyson’s not really in a state to advocate for his own dignity right now. 

So, uh. 

It’s fucking huge. 

“Dude,” Tyson says, staring in awe at the truly spectacular cock in front of him. “If they made a dildo mold using your dick, then used that mold to make an actual dildo, then sold that dildo in a sex shop, people would buy it, like, as a  _ joke. _ ” 

Freddie furrows his brow. “Are you saying that my dick is… funny?” 

“It’s enormous,” Tyson says. “It’s the kind of dick that someone claims they have when they’re lying about their penis on the internet. If someone sent me a dick pic, and that was the dick in the pic, I’d assume I was being catfished again, because that dick is too perfect to be real.” 

“Catfished _again?”_

“Don’t change the subject.” 

“Okay?” Freddie says. “What exactly is the subject?” 

“Your gigantic beautiful penis,” Tyson says. “I am—and I cannot stress this enough— _ honored  _ to have the opportunity to have that inside me.” 

“Yeah?” Freddie says, grinning a little. “It doesn’t scare you off?” 

Tyson scoffs. “Do I look scared?” 

“Uh,” Freddie says. 

Tyson amends, “Do I look scared in a non-horny way?” 

“I guess not,” Freddie says.

“Great,” Tyson says. “Now that that’s all cleared up, I’m gonna get some lube, and then you’re gonna try to just, like, fuckin’ split me in half with that thing, okay?” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Freddie says, gripping at the base of his cock and tilting his head back a little. 

God, he’s red all over, and Tyson thinks that, if he dies tonight, it will definitely have been worth it. 

Tyson does not, in fact, literally split in half, but he gives it a very valiant effort, and ends up riding Freddie’s dick for so long that he’s probably going to feel it for many, many days. 

Afterwards, he dismounts, feeling very proudly worn down, but before he can get into cleaning up, he feels a hand creeping up his thigh. 

“Is this okay?” Freddie asks. 

Tyson had been working up the energy to jerk himself off, but a handjob from Freddie definitely seems like a step up, so. 

“Yeah, go for it,” he says, a bit breathless but pleasantly surprised. 

And the surprise becomes a bit more pleasant when he feels Freddie’s  _ mouth  _ on his dick. 

Tyson doesn’t have much brain power after that, but what little he does have, he uses to count his blessings. 

“Alright,” he says, pushing himself off the bed, once all is said and done and Freddie’s swallowed his load. “I should go.” 

Freddie looks up, confused. “What?” 

“I mean, we both need to sleep, right?” 

“I guess,” Freddie says, and then his cheeks go a bit pink. “I just didn’t realize you had to leave.” 

Tyson blinks. “Do you… want me to stay?” 

“Well, kinda, yeah,” Freddie says. 

Huh. Tyson really  _ had  _ misread the situation, then. 

“If you’re asking me to stay, then I’ll stay,” Tyson says. 

“You don’t have to.” 

Except Tyson has already made up his mind, and is now crawling back into bed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m happy to stay.” 

“Yeah?” Freddie says. He looks almost hopeful now, and, despite the fact that Tyson had wanted to be physically and sexually destroyed by this man about ten minutes ago, it’s actually kind of a sweet moment. 

“Yeah,” Tyson says, and, for once, he doesn’t feel the need to say anything else. 

It’s not until Tyson’s lying in bed with his head on Freddie’s chest—further fucking up his already maybe-fucked neck—that he realizes that Freddie… almost definitely doesn’t hate him. 

Which— huh. 

Yeah, that’s— 

Y’know. 

Nice, or whatever. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm lottswrites on tumblr!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] we got the beat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20912228) by [ofjustimagine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofjustimagine/pseuds/ofjustimagine)


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